


Money makes the world go around

by Erurainia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hospitals, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Illness, kidnapped cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erurainia/pseuds/Erurainia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wise men say that money isn't everything. That money won’t buy you the world and certainly money doesn't buy happiness. But what do they know? Sat up in there ivory towers, while the poor starve and the ill die. Money might not buy you happiness but it gives you a damn good chance of staying alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad luck comes in three's

Wise men say that money isn’t everything. That money won’t buy you the world and certainly money doesn’t buy happiness. But what do they know? Sat up in there ivory towers, while the poor starve and the ill die. Money might not buy you happiness but it gives you a damn good chance of staying alive. That was Dean’s philosophy at least and it had kept him getting up in the morning, after all who else was going to get up and earn his daily dollar if not for him. 

Every day it was the same. Get up, go to work, visit Sammy, and take the night shift. Come home, let his stomach growl. Stare at the fridge, open it, close it. Decide he had eaten plenty earlier and set alarm for three hours later. Sleep. Same thing, every day. Hell it wasn’t like he could complain, he had a roof over his head and that was more than he could say for most people. 

It was just sometimes he wished for something different. What if he bought ham instead of cheese? What if he had finished high school and not dropped out? What if he had gone left instead of right at the intersection that night as the rain poured and Sammy sat laughing in seat next to him? A lot of things he could have done differently. Things he could have changed, stopped, if only he’d been different.  
But as it was, there was nothing he could change and as the alarm clock blared he rubbed his eyes, cursing the sun that was creeping in his blinds. Rolling over he clapped his hand over the buzzer and practically crawled out of bed. He grabbed all he needed from his dresser before heading for the bathroom. Maybe he could just wash the tiredness away? Not that it had before, but it was worth a shot right?

Wrong. Not only did it not cure his tired eyes, but the heater wasn’t working again. Just what he loved. A cold freaking shower, on a cold freaking day. Sighing he climbed out, (after all there was no point in wasting water,) and he changed into his work clothes for the day. 

He didn’t have a big and important job. Hell you could tell that from his dingy little apartment and if he did, it wasn’t like he’d waste his time with two jobs. He worked at a mechanics, though even then it wasn’t the good part of the shop. Apparently you need to have a freaking degree to work on cars. Even if you know everything about them under the sun, you don’t have a piece of paper that says that, it means nothing. So he was the receptionist. Beggars can’t be choosers. 

Stepping out of the door and straight into a puddle he cursed loudly. He could already tell today wasn’t going to be his day, though then again, when was it ever? He couldn’t help but smile slightly as he walked down the stairs and patted the bonnet of his car. Good old baby. Come rich, come poor he could never get rid of her. Hell he’d sooner sell his home than his car, even if she only did 25 miles to the gallon. 

As he slid in he ran his hands over the dash, before he slipped the key in and drove to work. When the engine roared and he took off, Dean heard the radio flick on. Quickly he grabbed one of the tapes from, an old shoe box in the passengers foot well and crammed it in the player, grinning at the rock classic that began pouring out of it. You see, Dean hated the radio. It was just full of stories of rich people getting richer by the day and as recently those people were the Novak’s, rising billionaires. Freaking rich people. He bet they never knew a day of real work in their lives.

Dean shook his head as he parked up at work and walked in, muttering something no one could really understand, even if they were listening carefully. He didn’t hate his job as much as he thought he would when he had first been hired. The work wasn’t hard and the people they were… Okay he guessed. There were Benny and Rufus, the guys who actually fixed up the cars. He never really talked to Rufus much, the guy kinda kept to himself, but Benny was awesome. The only real guy that understood where he was at. They’d often sit and chat during their lunch breaks or whenever Benny didn’t have a car in. That was as long as they could avoid Crowley, their boss. The man was a slave driver.

Then there was Becky, his co-work, who wasn’t that bad… Though at this particular time, four hours into his shift, she was getting on his last nerve.

“So Dean, which one do you think is prettier? Michael or Castiel? Or what about Luke? Though I’m pretty sure Michael and Luke are having a secrete affair you know? You can just tell by the way they look into each other’s eyes...” 

Becky sighed dreamily as Dean gritted his teeth. Three more hours and he would get to see Sammy. The highlight of his day.  
“I don’t freaking care. Every single Novak can die in an explosion for I care!”

It was then Crowley decided to rear his ugly face and unfortunately for Dean, it was staring directly at him. He watched grimly as the suit approached his desk, taking a deep breath. There was only one reason Crowley ever paid attention to his employee’s. When they were in trouble, and by the look on the man’s face, Dean was deep in it. Though it wasn’t the frown he was worried about, it was the smile blooming across his lips. 

“Dean, it seems there has been a change of plans involving your employment. That is too say you are no longer needed. Pack up, go home Winchester.” 

And as quick as he came, he left, leaving Dean shocked, confused and downright angry. What the hell had he even done to be fired? It wasn’t like he was late every day like Benny, or he turned up smelling like a freaking brewery like Rufus. Hell if anyone should have got the sack it should have been Becky! All she does is talk all the time and use the company computers for writing her weird ass stories.   
Packing up his things he ignored Becky and her annoying apologies and her ‘don’t worry, you’ll get a new job soon.’ Like it was that easy in this world. He knew that puddle wouldn’t have been the end of his bad luck that day. Well at least he could see Sam a few hours earlier. It was something at least. 

Leaving that hell hole behind, he drove down Main Street, keeping his music off this time, and clenching his hands at the wheel. It was okay he’d make it work. He always did after all. As he pulled in front of the building, he looked up at it and took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair.

He climbed out, jogged up the stairs and walked the familiar halls to Sam’s room. It wasn’t long before he found it, number 206 and he waltzed in, throwing his stuff by the plastic chair with a plastered on smile. 

“Hey Sammy! How you feeling today man?”

He sat down in the chair as the pale figure in the bed peeled open his eyes and smiled a little. He made an attempt to shuffle up into a sitting position, though he didn’t make it very far before he just gave up and used the electronic bed dial to force him upright. 

“I’m okay, just a little tired you know?”

“Too much flirting with that hot nurse of yours?”

“Shut up Dean! Jess is just doing her job and I’m being nice and… Just shut up Jerk.”

“Bitch.” 

Dean couldn’t help but smile at that. At least he was well enough to joke with him now. He’d been asleep every time he had visited last week. With all the tests the doctors were running, his brother had been more than worn out, though it seemed even though he had spent nearly two months in coma he was always tired. Not that Dean could care less; his brother was finally out of the woods.  
After that the two just talked about anything and everything. Sam mostly about daytime TV and Jess, and Dean anything but the fact he had been fired today. It was about an hour and a half into his visit when Sammy’s doctor poked his head around the door.   
“Dean? May I have a word with you?”

He just nodded and told his brother he’d be back in a minute and not to fall asleep on him as he followed the doctor back out of the room. Since Dean was his legal guardian and it was still three more months until Sam was eighteen, it fell on him to listen to whatever the doctors had to say. Though he had to admit he was glad that the only thing he would hear from him now was how quick he could bring his little brother home.

“So, what’s up doc?”

“Well, as you know last week we were running some tests, to check your brothers brain activity since he woke up from his accident and we have come across a cranial tumour. Luckily it isn’t malignant.”

He could practically feel his face drop and hear his heart shatter. What the hell did that mean? Sammy was meant to be better now. He was supposed to bring him home soon and they’d laugh. This had to be a fucking joke. 

“Now as serious as it sounds, it is operable. We would have to do a biopsy and then see what we can do. If all goes well, your brother   
with need chemo therapy. Dean it’s going to cost around $600,000.” 

“And if I can’t afford that?”

“If left, they can start to cause pressure on the brain and cause other sorts of damage and ultimately, your brother will die. I’m sorry Dean. We can give you a week, but after that we will have to move him to the hospice.”

And he thought this day couldn’t get any worse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean it's been over a year since I updated this... or anything... Jeez I suck. But yeah here's chapter two. I hope you enjoy

After his talk with the doctor all that was left for him to do was say a quick ‘I got to head off. Urgent business’ to Sam and disappear out of the hospital while he could still breath. As he climbed into his car, he just sat there not starting the engine and not moving. All he was doing was staring at his steering wheel, finger clenched. All he could think was, why Sam? Why his Sammy, after everything? Hadn’t they been through enough? Had they not yet had their full quota of misfortune? Clearly not. 

The silence broke as Dean slammed his hands on the wheel repeatedly and cursed. He probably looked like madman to anyone passing by, but it wasn’t like he could give a shit right now. $600,000. How the hell was he meant to afford that? He’d already had their account wiped clean from the accident and it wasn’t like he even had two jobs any more. He could get a loan? Like the bank would give him $600,000 for his sob story, but it couldn’t hurt but try… and if it came to it there were always other ways of getting a loan. Yeah. He’d fix it somehow. It was his job after all, look after his baby brother.

It wasn’t like he could do anything right now though, so what would it hurt to be a little bit selfish. He drove with a raw aim to find the one thing that would block out the words that the doctor had spoken to him earlier. He could have laughed hollow as it may be, but trust the world to have given him the same vice as his father. He’d tried to avoid it, hell he had watched it ruin his dad. Yet still he found it call to him. It blocked out the hurt and fixed all the bad if only for a night. That was how he ended up parked at Harvelle’s Roadhouse. 

He was gritting his teeth as he walked in and surveyed the place, giving Ellen a small wave before she retreated back into her office and he sat at the bar. It seemed like all the regulars were in tonight and you could defiantly pick out the new faces. You always could in a bar like this. They were always huddled together in some sort of pack, a little on edge and shooting looks at the other patrons. Though he guessed it didn’t help that all the regulars looked like crazy rednecks that if you said the wrong thing you’d end up with a fist in your face. It wasn’t true of course. Dean had grown up with the majority of these guys and they were all pretty cool. The one sitting at a table near the back, (Bobby his name was, ran the salvage yard nearby.) practically raised him and his brother when their dad drank himself into a ditch. Leaning an arm onto the bar, Dean waved over the barkeep and decided to start the night with how he meant to continue it. 

With a whiskey. Make it a double.

After a few hours (and more than a few top-up’s) he found himself searching the bar for someone. Anyone really, who could just take the edge off. There was a small group of girl’s that had been staring at him for some time now, twirling their hair and giggling. Though even in his minds haze they weren’t really his type and the only one that was had that brown hair and eyes that just reminded him of Lisa. So she was out. He was almost ready to give up and just go home and wallow by himself, when his eyes met a pair of cerulean blue ones. They were framed with messy brown hair and he couldn’t help but smirk as he saw the blush rising on the man’s cheeks at being caught staring. He offered the other man a wink, before turning back to his drink. He’d give him ten minutes and if he didn’t come over, he’d have to go get him himself.

Dean had almost reached nine minutes in counting when the man decided that his, slowly edge himself closer to Dean, thing wasn’t working and he sat down next to him. Not that he’d expected any less, after all, he knew he was hot and the guy had already been staring at him so really it had been a case of when not if. 

Turning to face him he smirked, leaning his elbow on the bar as his hand tapped at his almost empty whiskey glass. Seeing him closer up was a real treat that was for sure. Blue eyes, dark hair and suit that in no way looked like it did this guy justice. If his body was as good as his face then he was in for a hell of a night. At least it matched his hell of a life. 

“Been waiting for you to come on over, took your time much didn’t you?” As he spoke he flashed a wink at the other man and if he had even a shred of luck today he’d be able to get out of there soon.

“I was nervous. Unsure of the correct protocols for such a situation,” The other man explained as he sighed away from Dean’s gaze. It was almost as if the guy was trying to look anywhere but directly at his face and he had to admit, it was kinda cute. Maybe if he’d had the kind of time to date or see anyone he’d have taken the time to get to know this man, but instead he just downed his drink and stood.

“Proper Protocol say’s my place or yours?”

“Yours…” Grinning now, Dean waited for the blue eyed man to make a move and after a clear minute of the man obviously asking himself whether this was a good idea or not, he stood nodding his head. Great. Step one, pick up a hottie complete. 

Heading out towards his baby, which honestly he was probably a little too drunk to drive, but what the hell, the path wasn’t wobbling beneath him so he was sure it’d be okay. Not to mention that his place was only a few blocks away. Opening the guy’s door first, (yeah he was a gentleman. What of it?), he let blue eyes in before he jogged around to the driver’s side and slid into the seat. Putting the car into drive, he quickly pulled out of the parking lot and set out down the road, casting a smirk at blue eyes who was sat awkwardly in his passenger seat.

“Hey, you wanna give me your name? I mean I can keep calling you blue eyes all night, but a name easier to shout y’know?”

“It’s Castiel. Castiel Novak.”

If Dean wasn’t a pro at driving under stress he was sure he would have crashed the car right then and there. Novak. As in multi billionaire Novak corporations. Shit. Suddenly it was like he hadn’t been drinking at all that night and everything was clear to him. Sammy’s operation. The $600,000 dollars he had to come up with in a week and the billionaire in his front seat.

Slowing down as they approached the intersection, he had a choice. Turn right; go home. Just use this Castiel for a night to forget and quick band aid over the shit hand he’d been dealt. The sane part of his mind told him that was the right way to go and there was always some other way he could get the money, after all what would Sammy say if he went left and out of town? He’d be disappointed that’s for sure, but he’d seen where turning right got you. It stuck him with a busted up car and nearly a dead brother. The more he thought about it the more obvious it became.

He turned left.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm not finished with my other fics, but this one I want to finish for a change. I'm hoping to update again soon. Tell me what you think. Next Chapter will introduce Cas


End file.
